Restless Nights
by Karma Sutra
Summary: With Germany on your mind, it's becoming harder and harder to sleep. Does he notice? GermanyxReader
1. Chapter 1

You peer around the edge of a building, fear and curiosity mingling as the strange men began to explore your shore. The large ships that had docked onto the sand were unlike any you had seen before, and the passengers were strange and different compared to your own citizens; the only people you have ever known. What the arrival of these newcomers meant, you weren't sure.

With your attention completely focused on the coastline, you were unaware that there was someone behind you until a hand fell on your shoulder. With a startled gasp, you turned around to see a severe looking man with blonde hair and foreign blue eyes standing behind a leaner one with startlingly white hair and red eyes.

"Vhat's this?" smirked the red eyed man with an unfamiliar accent. He leaned down to get a better look at you, and the black cross around his neck caught the sunlight, if only for a moment. You take a step back, suddenly wary of these strangers.

"Who are you?" you demanded, surprisingly free of stutter. With an obnoxious 'ksesese' the one who had spoken before straightened up and looked towards his partner.

"Go ahead and take her. Ve need all the territory ve can get if ve want to compete with England and France."

You didn't know who France or England were or what they meant by territory, but you definitely didn't want to find out. You tried to run, but didn't get far before the blond man (definitely the stronger of the two) caught up and threw you over his shoulder. Your struggling was to no avail and you were soon carried away.

You wake up with a start, genuinely surprised at having a dream from so far into the past. That had been the day your little nation was occupied by Prussia and Germany, who were still young to the age of imperialism at the time. Despite it being whole centuries later, you had never moved out and they had never asked you to leave. You were still their territory, and you preferred it that way.

Crawling out from beneath the sheets, you found the floor with your feet and stood slowly, so as to not disturb the two men who still slept soundly in the bed you shared with them. Your room was right next to the boys', but you had grown so used to sleeping with them from when you were a child that you couldn't sleep in your own anymore.

A small 'chirp' sounded as you reached the door, and you pressed your fingers to your lips at the little, yellow offender, who was perched on the windowsill.

'Shh, Gilbird. I'll be back,' you mouth before slipping out of the room and into the hall.

It was still early morning, around 3am or so, and the house lay in therapeutic calm; something that didn't happen very often when everyone was up and awake. There wasn't much you could do at this hour, but you doubted you'd be able to sleep again after such a nostalgic dream. You grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured some tap water into it, not even bothering to look in the refrigerator for anything else; it was full of beer, you already knew. The carefully kept calendar hanging from the wall reminded you of a world meeting, and you considered asking Ludwig to take you. Territories weren't usually supposed to attend, but he always gave you special allowances. Besides, Prussia wasn't even a real country anymore and he crashed events all the time.

"_Ahem_."

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled you into almost dropping your cup. Looking behind you, you realized (with quite a bit of relief) that it was just Ludwig.

"You're up early," he commented, reaching into the fridge. You had long ago given up the hopeless venture of trying to convince him not to drink in the morning.

"You too. It's still a couple of hours from the crack of dawn." Ludwig was an early riser, but even so; this was a bit ridiculous. He couldn't have been having strange dreams like you... right?

He gave a little scoff. "That means it's still _several _hours until noon. I'm surprised you even know how to function at this hour."

Ouch. Nope, that was not the feeling of tender hearted nostalgia.

"Can I come to the meeting today?" you ask, swallowing the note of disappointment that arose with his banter. You had long ago recognized your feelings for the nation, but you couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous at being upset over his teasing you. Just because your dreams were filled with him didn't mean he could say the same about you.

"Hm? It's not going to be any different than last time, and you might get bored."

"I won't," you urged, already sensing his consent on the tip of his tongue.

"You'll stay away from Russia?"

You nodded, leaning towards him in expectation. He backed away, almost as if on instinct. The sting of rejection lightly prodded at your insides.

_Don't be silly, he didn't mean anything by it. _

"Fine. You can go. But you have to stay out of trouble."

You squealed, and hugged his neck, which required you stand on your tiptoes to reach.

"Ja, ja. Now go back to sleep."

Giving another appreciative squeal, you released him and started back towards the room.

"Hey, and _? If you have a nightmare or any weird dreams, you can wake up either me or Gilbert. Don't lose sleep over them or anything."

His blush was apparent even in his voice, and you knew that if you looked back at him, he would avoid your eyes. You smiled.

"Oh, I know that. I'll depend on you two, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, you returned to the room and got back in bed; feeling Prussia curling into you on reflex. Sighing contentedly, you drifted back off.

**A/N: I'm at a total writer's block on my novel, so give me a country, OTP, or prompt, and I'll write you something. If you like this fanfic enough, I'll continue it. Review, my loves! It encourages me more than you could know! **


	2. Chapter 2

You woke up to the slight sting of something fairly soft and malleable being slammed against your face. Opening your eyes proved to be fatal, as the pillow (for that's what it was) came down once again with a vengeance.

"_Ow_!" you cried out, sitting up and rubbing a hand against the now tender skin of your face. Prussia stood above you on the bed, pillow-bludgeon poised above his head, ready to be unleashed. Irked, you kicked out, connecting with his ankles and causing him to lose his footing on the uneven surface of the mattress. He fell with a slight bounce, and you took the opportunity to assail him mercilessly with your own pillow.

"Oi! You win, you win! West! Help!"

You laughed, mimicking his own obnoxious 'ksesese' while he struggled beneath your assaults. Lunging forward, he tackled you and reversed your positions with embarrassing ease.

"Hey!" you protested as he continued his attack from where it had last left off. For someone who was no longer a country, he was _strong_.

"Sucks to suck!" Gilbert taunted, rearing back his weapon for the next strike.

"**Bruder**!" The sharp call caused both you and your aggressor to pause and look towards the source.

Germany stood in the doorway, his slicked back hair slightly mussed from his routine morning run. He was currently dressed in his usual black tank top and olive cargo pants, but you knew he would soon change into something more suitable for a professional world meeting (although they were usually everything but). The displeasure etched across his face was nothing new to you (especially whenever you and Prussia went at it), but was that a blush? Mentally shaking your head of the thought, you reasoned he was just flushed from running.

"Bruder, that's no way to treat a girl," he berated as if he were talking to a small child; a habit that caused you to wonder who was _really_ the older of the two.

"Aww! We-est! She's not a girl, she's _."

The younger sighed. "You thought the same about Hungary."

Prussia's cheeks darkened to a shade of red that could be likened to his irises. "T-that was completely different! She was very misleading!"

Another warning look from Ludwig and Prussia abandoned his pillow siege, tossing the fluffy projectile back to the head of the bed where it belonged. With a grumble that sounded a lot like Miss Hungary's name, he headed out of the room, not even bothering to throw on anything over his boxers.

You sat up quickly only just realizing your current disheveled state now that you were alone with Ludwig. Not that it would be the first time Germany witnessed you in a childish position. A blush that could challenge Gil's warmed your face. Exactly how many times _had _he seen you like this? Certainly not _that _many, right? Suddenly the white nightgown fringed with a frilly lace that hung off your shoulders felt juvenile and unsophisticated; the exact opposite of the man that stood before you.

"Go ahead and get dressed," he muttered distractedly. "We're leaving in half an hour."

Excitement overrode your previous self consciousness as you remembered his earlier promise to bring to you the world meeting.

"Jawohl!" You scrambled from the bed and headed towards your room, writing up a mental inventory of possible outfits. As you walked past him, Germany pulled the collar of your dress back up over your shoulder, startling you enough that you stopped in your tracks.

"Ludwig?"

"Keep yourself covered. I don't want France looking at you or anything" His obstinate tone only accentuated the light blush and averted eyes, and you couldn't help but smile. Standing on your tiptoes, you pecked him on the cheek, deepening the sanguine color of his cheeks.

"Will do."

You tugged at the sleeve of your dress, annoyed at having to wear such an obnoxious thing. Despite your pleas, Germany had denied you access to pants of any sorts.

"Stop that," he scolded, pulling your hand away from the fabric only to drop it quickly. The lingering warmth on your skin was haunting, and you had to restrain yourself from shaking your wrist to get rid of the feeling. He carried on with the lecture that had started as soon as the two of you had left the house

"Remember, stay away from Russia," he cautioned, for the nth time, as he opened the door to the UN headquarters for you. Although you'd seen its interior several times before, the buzz of activity that carried on throughout the building never ceased to startle you, and you found yourself a bit overwhelmed. As if he noticed, Ludwig pressed a hand against your back, guiding you to the elevator that would take you to the room designated for business between personified nations. The elevator began its ascent, but his hand didn't stray. You almost wished it would; his touch was distracting.

"Don't let the pervert make a pass at you." You identified 'the pervert' as France fairly easily; his house was right next to the German brothers' after all. This would not be the first time you dealt with the flirt, nor (as you noted with a grimace) would it be the last.

"And if America asks to put a military base on you, say no," Ludwig continued, even as the doors slid open. Hand returning to his side, he walked briskly to a heavy, wood door at the end of the corridor.

"Just.. stay close, okay?" His voice rose, almost in a plea, and his oceanic eyes were trained on yours for the first time in a while. You couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, okay."

He nodded curtly, back to his usual suave, professional self, and swung open the door; entering first so that he could shield you behind him.

Germany had hardly stepped into the room when I high pitched, "Doitsu!" sounded, and Northern Italy threw himself at the larger nation in a hug.

"Hallo, Italy. I'm sure you remember-"

"Vee~? Is that _? She's grown so much~!" Releasing his old ally, Italy launched himself at you instead, embracing you in a way that you _really_ weren't used to.

"Italy," Germany coaxed, in an attempt to pry him off you.

Upon seeing his brother speaking to Germany, Romano made his way over, dragging Spain along with him.

"Oi, potato bastard! Stay away from my brother!"

"Fratello, look! It's _!" Italy announced, letting you go to turn his attention to his other half.

Romano paused in his tirade to glance at you, his anger transferring quickly. "You too! Stay away from Feliciano! You are just like those potato eating bastards!"

Spain smiled apologetically and Feliciano became flustered as Romano continued; drawing attention to you and Ludwig's arrival.

"Yo! Is that a territory? I didn't know we could bring those!"

You winced as the crass voice of America cut through Southern Italy's rant. An audible sigh escaped from Germany, and you hip bumped him with a 'it's okay, we got this' smile in attempt to mask your own rising stress.

"You idiot, _ has been here before. Act like a gentleman for once," England berated his former charge, setting down the cup of tea he had been drinking.

"Dude, that's killer! Hey, Britain, why don't you ever bring Wales or Scotland?"

"They are not my territories, they are a collective part of the UK!"

"Nah, dude, I think they're territories."

As they started arguing, a new, much-too-familiar accent threw itself into the array of voices.

"Bonjour, ma petite!"

Oh dear.

**A/N: Oh wow, y'all made me feel awesome. Sorry if the quality declined in this chapter; it'll get better as a plot/conflict begins to form in the next one. Remember: I'm always up for suggestions or requests. Tell me what YOU want to happen; this is YOUR story after all! **

**And sorry for the frilly nightgown. I love frilly nightgowns XD **


	3. Chapter 3

"Bonjour, Monsieur France," you greeted politely, using the little French you were taught by the German brothers. You extended a hand to his for a handshake, remembering what Germany said about honoring the Franco-German friendship, only to have him take it and pull you close. He pecked you on your left and right cheeks before releasing you with a wink. Shocked, you stumbled back, into Germany's chest.

"Come now, ma petite, mon ami. There is no need to be so formal among friends," he crooned, somehow procuring a rose from subspace and offering it to you. You took it, still shrinking back into the larger man.

"Hallo, Francis," He muttered, throwing a protective arm over your shoulder. Although you knew the gesture was out of parental caution, you couldn't help but feel your heart beat faster.

"Hon, hon, hon~" France chuckled knowingly, stepping away. "So that's how it is. Ah, but our little Germany is still so ignorant to lo-"

"Frog!" England's harsh, accented voice cut through the country of romance's monologue. You were relieved, his harassment would be directed elsewhere for now.

"Should we slip into the room now?" You whispered, craning your neck back to look at Germany (who you were startled to see blushing). He nodded and gave a thin smile, his stress obvious. Perhaps, you thought, you shouldn't have come. The last thing you had wanted to do was become a burden on the man who had taken you in. His arm moved to your back, and he pushed gently, urging you to walk with him to the council table. Still allowing your thoughts to make a mess of your emotions, you complied, taking your seat next to Ludwig.

The chair beside you did not remain empty for long; a large, hulking man pulled it back and sat; a childlike grin distorting his features.

You gulped, recognizing Russia by his threatening aura before even registering the platinum blond hair and violet eyes.

"Privyet, little bunny."

"H-hallo..."

This was exactly what Ludwig had said NOT to do. Don't let Russia talk to you, don't let France flirt with you, don't let America build a military base on you. Oh well. At least you hadn't allowed the last one to happen. Yet.

"Such a small, cute country needs someone strong to protect it, da? Why not become one with me?"

"She's perfectly capable herself, danke Ivan," Germany interrupted tersely, before you could even stutter out a reply. Russia's eyes grew dark and violent, the grin disappearing into a flat line.

"Then explain your own presence in its life , _Ludwig_. Weren't we supposed to get rid of territories after World War 2, because of _your _boss?"

You winced, remembering those bloody, pained years. By then you were already Germany's long time territory, and you had stayed by his side throughout the dictatorship. Germany had been left broken and bruised, and Russia had even taken Prussia away for a time. Those memories were not ones Germany or you enjoyed revisiting.

You opened your mouth to begin shouting at the nation for his own involvement in that war, but Germany shook his head.

"She is my territory on her own accord, her economy having suffered due to our forced separation after the second world war. Her return was excused, and despite her increasing financial independence, she is allowed to stay with me as long as she wishes."

You blushed slightly. It was true, your economy, untouched by the current Euro Crisis was flourishing. Germany, however, was under strain with Greece slacking off and all. Were you adding to that stress? Why HAD you stayed for so long if it was just becoming troublesome? Prussia was still around, but he was Ludwig's brother after all. What were you to Germany?

"Dude, Russkiy, leave them alone and pick on somebody your own size."

Russia's attention turned, abruptly, to Alfred; a predatory gleam in his eye. "Are you submitting yourself to me, Amerika?"

"Hahaha, I'm way too cool for you."

They continued their flirtatious bickering, and you scooted closer to Germany. Slipping your hand into his in a comforting gesture, you worried over his reaction to what Russia had said. On the outside he was his usual professionally terse self, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. The fact that he didn't withdraw his hand said a lot in itself.

The meeting progressed with the usual shouting, fighting, and wasting of time, but unlike most days Germany remained completely silent unless spoken to. You continued your silent debate, hardly able to pay attention to the others. When all was over and the nations were filing out with their respective allies and partners, Ludwig bode his time, stacking and restacking the papers he had brought and blowing away as much time as possible. When the last country left (It was Feliciano, drug away by Lovino and Spain), he turned towards you, eyes unreadable as ever.

"It may be time, _, for you to become independent. Prussia and I will help you move out of the house tomorrow."

_WHAT?_

**A/N: Ach mein Gott, thank you guys so much for your wonderful reviews! It's y'all's lovely comments that keep me writing :) **

***drum roll* Voila! The plot! As with all romantic comedies there must be conflict, and so here you have it. Mull over this worriedly until the next installment *evil laugh* **


	4. Chapter 4

"He _WHAT_?" Prussia gaped, his mouth reminiscent of a fish. You were sitting on his bed, hands tangled in that god forsaken dress, while he perched cross legged on the floor, "Call of Duty: Nazi Zombies" (his favorite game, ironically) paused and controller temporarily abandoned. Germany had dropped you off back at your-wait, _his_-house to pack your things, before speeding off to go do whatever countries did upon abandoning their loyal, devoted, affectionate, loving, adoring, enamored- ... you couldn't help but feel a little bitter.

You had honestly meant to pack like your cruel, mean, nasty, oblivious, negligent, anal _fatherland_ requested, but somehow found yourself in Prussia's room, attempting to relay what had happened during the meeting. Despite all efforts, you weren't able to explain how you had gotten kicked out; you still didn't understand the situation yourself.

"I-I don't really know," you stuttered, unable to look your bruder in the face and unable to rationalize how everything fell to pieces right before your very eyes.

"Wait right here. Seriously, don't go anywhere, and don't pack your shit. Keep your shit exactly where it is. As a matter of fact, don't touch your shit at all. The awesome me will figure this out."

He stood and stomped out, leaving the door flung open in his wake. For a moment, you worried he decided to abandon you too, but he returned soon enough. Only, he wasn't alone.

France snatched his arm away from the frenetic albino, stumbling a bit as he did so.

"Really, Prussia. Rude as ever. Learn how to invite a friend over properly, will you?" he muttered, brushing off his sleeve as if something dirty had touched it. He suddenly noticed you from where you sulked, and his entire demeanor changed.

"Ah, I am sorry ma cherie! I had no idea I was in the presence of a lady!" He lifted your hand and kissed it in his usual overly flourished manner. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company so soon after our last meeting?"

You opened your mouth to tell him what had happened between you and Germany, but you could suddenly no longer hold back the pinpricks of tears that had threatened to spill since the two of you had left the council room, and a huge, body racking sob escaped rather than the relation.

"Ma fille, what has happened to you? Just a little while ago you were so happy and smitten! Prussia, what is the meaning of this?" France turned his alarm to Prussia, who stood seething near the door.

"That's what I was going to ask you. West dumped her here with some stupid story about how he kicked her out-as if the awesome me would allow that- and then just left. What the hell happened at that meeting?"

Although you never really liked the flirtatious blonde, you suddenly found yourself comforted by him as he stroked your hair and allowed you to bury your face in his shoulder while he thought over what had gone on only a few hours before.

"Nothing that could have possibly caused such rash actions... ah, well... he did have an argument with Russia."

Gilbert's face grew pale at mention of Ivan's name; you could only imagine the experiences he was reliving from his time with the frightening nation.

"What were they arguing about?"

"That I don't know. I was talking to England at the time; I only saw it from afar." He glanced down at you, worry and concern etched across his features. "I'm sure you know, oui? If you are able to say, it may help us decipher Ludwig's reasoning for such thoughtless behavior." His tone was soft, gentle, and it embarrassed you. Sitting up, you wiped your face and regained some composure.

"It was, um, over me, I think. Mr. Russia asked if I would, er, become one with him, and Germany got angry with him. Russia brought up World War 2, and Germany said I could stay as long as I wanted.. so I don't know why he..." you broke off, choked by a sob. Mein _Gott_, you hated being so fragile! It was all that bastard's fault! If Germany appeared you weren't sure if you'd hug him or punch him. The latter was the better sounding of the two.

"Should we call Russia in for questioning?" France asked thoughtfully, unsatisfied with the answer you had given and unwilling to put through more stress.

"No!" Gilbert objected almost immediately, despite his obvious anger.

"If we want to keep _ here, we have to-"

"No," you interrupted France, gathering resolve. "I.. I'll just leave. If it's what he wants, then I should just listen. This is his house, and I've just overstayed my welcome is all," you sighed heavily, voice gaining strength with each word. "I hope to remain allies with you, France, in independence. Prussia, try coming to at least some of the meetings so that I can see you, alright?"

Before either man could protest, you stood and strode out of the room. Your facade of bravado collapsed upon entering your own room, and you packed your things into the ancient suitcase that had brought them to this very place as if it was your dying day. The door was locked to avoid intrusion, although you don't think France or Prussia chased after you anyway. For the first time in centuries, you were truly alone.

"We should go after her, she is making a horrible mistake!" France insisted, already heading towards the door. Prussia stood in his way, eyes fiery once more

"No, Francis. She isn't going to change her mind unless Ludwig does. All we have to do is find him, right? We'll knock him back to his senses and have _ back in our bed before ten."

The other made a face, startled by his new discovery. "You two brutes make her share a bed with you? No wonder she's leaving..."

"Oh shut up and come on. This entire situation is so unawesome."

**A/N: Prussia's favorite game is Nazi Zombies! I'm going to hell. Seriously though, I can see him playing as Richtofen and cackling as he mows over undead minions. Although Russia hates playing online with him; Gilbert's always trying to shoot Nikolai. **

**Thank you as always for reading! This entire thing is making me depressed; I miss the fluffy. Don't worry though, my loves, it will return (eventually)! Review, whether it be good, bad, or ugly (although none of my lovely readers could ever be ugly; you are all too beautiful!). **

**I'm overtired. Night, guys. **


	5. Chapter 5

Tossing your suitcase onto the porch of your home, you breathed in the salty-sweet ocean air with the tinge of a smile on your face. After all these centuries, you were home again. With the pain of Germany's rejection still fresh and throbbing, the homecoming was bittersweet, but that didn't stop you from exalting in the waves and beaches that had watched your beginnings as a nation.

You entered your home with a forced swing to your step, only to find your beachside house unlocked. Stepping inside warily, you were relieved that it was only your boss. Any good feelings you may have had, however, were quickly dispersed as she began to shout. Her lecture and questions fell to numb ears as you tolerated her grievances over your damaged relationship with Germany. You couldn't tell her what had happened like she wished, so why become bothered over it? It wasn't that you didn't understand the consequences of the collapsed partnership (although your boss seemed to think otherwise), you just seriously hadn't meant any harm (not to mention you still weren't quite sure what you had done to receive such backlash).

Once it was over, you decided it best to get out and attempt to relieve the tensions and stress you had experienced over the past few days with a walk. Not exactly an original idea, but you had been landlocked for _years_ and the distraction of a familiar beach was more than welcome.

The waves lapped at your ankles as you ambled down the shore and the sun caused tears to prick in the backs of your eyes. That might have actually been the arschloch's fault, but you refused to entertain that thought any further. After a time you decided to close your eyes, choosing to revel in the sensations rather than the sight. Briefly, you considered a swim in the ocean, but that idea was quickly eradicated with the sudden presence of a hulking shadow. Opening your eyes, you glanced up to see who had interrupted your stroll...

and choked back a scream.

Standing before you, beige scarf still in place despite the summer heat, was Russia. His violet irises were clouded with insidious intention, and gloved fingers were entwined around a lead pipe.

"Privyet, Sunflower. Become one, da?"

"Bruder! Open the hell up! I know you're in there!" Prussia threw his shoulder into the door of Italy's home, irritation from an earlier, fruitless conversation with Russia fueling his assault. France stood by the angry albino's side, his own angst evident from the downward curve of his lips.

"You shouldn't have mentioned the Cold War, mon ami," he muttered, flicking a blond strand of hair behind his ear. This entire situation, he thought, was ridiculous. After a drawn out argument with the macabre Russian, the two boys had spent the day following various leads in an effort to figure out Ludwig's whereabouts. After a barrage of insults, England had directed them to America, who had recommended Greece, who had become angry at the mere mention of the Germany's name and refused to speak, so by some fortune Japan had been there and he invited them to try Italy's house, which is what found them waiting for an answer on the Italians' doorstep and hoping to God that it wouldn't come from Romano (who not only disliked Prussia for his German ancestry, but also France for years of attempted molestation).

"I didn't mention the Cold War! _He_ did!"

"Excuses, excuses. If _ isn't safely returned to Ludwig's bed-"

"It's my bed too!"

"-then it's all your fault."

"Why is it _my_ fault?!"

"Because you seduced Russia with your femininely narrow hips."

"My hips are NOT feminine!"

"Oh, _ma amie_, yes they are."

"I AM NOT FEMININE!"

With that, the door swung open and an incredibly aggravated Southern Italian stood in the threshold, his hands on his waist.

"What the fuck are you two bastards doing here? You're going to wake up Antonio."

The Prussian and Frenchman quickly regained their composure, although Gilbert still glared daggers at his blond counterpart.

"Wait... Toni's here?" Francis asked, ignoring the albino. While he was interested in seeing his former partner in crime, he was more drawn to the advantage in having a third person aid in the search, especially someone who was bound to have seen the runaway German within the past few days.

"Si, he's taking his afternoon siesta."

"Roma have-"

"Don't call me that!" the smaller man bristled, interrupting Francis and causing Gilbert to gnash his teeth in frustration.

"Romano, then, we need to know if you have seen Ludwig."

The other paused, recognition passing over his features, before he regained his facade of irritated arrogance.

"And if I have? Why should I tell you assholes anything?"

Prussia looked ready to attack the younger nation, but Francis managed to maintain his patience and continued to speak for them.

"Because, it is very important that we talk to him. If you wish to, send Antonio out to talk to us."

"Fuck no. I told you he's sleeping! Besides, I don't _wish_ to do anything for you, you fucking wine-drinking, perverted bast-"

"Lovi! Who's at the door?" Feliciano's sweeter voice rang from somewhere in the depths of the house, leading France to sigh in relief. He was certain to find an ally in the more easily influenced Italian. A small tuft of brown hair appeared behind his brother, eyes going wide upon seeing France and Prussia.

"Ve~ why is big brother France here, fratello?"

Romano sighed and leaned against the doorframe, allowing Feliciano to stand next to him. "They're looking for Ludwig."

France smiled warmly and practically cooed, "Do you think you can tell Big Brother where Germany is?" Prussia rolled his eyes, but the gesture appeared to go by unnoticed.

Ludwig's whereabouts were immediately confirmed when Italy's usual carefree smile fell away, and panic clouded over the vapidity that usually characterized his features. Inwardly, Francis smiled. This had gone better than expected.

Prussia seemed to have noticed too, as he dove at the vulnerable Italian with a vengeance. Wrapping his fist into the smaller man's shirt, he leaned in much too close for comfort.

"He's in the house isn't he? Feliciano! He's in there, right? Verdammt, when I get a hold of him I'm going to beat his Aryan ass!"

"Ah! Don't hurt me! No no no no, Prussia! He's in the guest room, just don't hurt me!"

Releasing the babbling man, Gilbert shoved past Lovino and breached the house, spewing German threats as he went. France apologized to both boys before stepping around a shell shocked Italy to follow the livid Prussian.

Romano sighed, glancing angrily at his sobbing brother. "Idiota."

Ludwig was found lying across the Italys' guest bed with a book while Spain slept nearby, the two looking comically like a married couple. France could only assume the Spaniard had been consoling Germany before nodding off when his usual nap time drifted close.

"WEST, I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!"

"Bruder?!" The German abandoned whatever he had been reading in the wake of Prussia's raucous entrance, standing quickly only to flinch back as Gilbert began to shout.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing? Where the hell do you come off kicking _ out without telling me first! She's probably going into awesome withdrawals or something!"

Antonio stirred and lifted his head sleepily. "Gilbert? Francis? What are you doing here? Where is _?"

Francis sighed, already frustrated with the situation. "That is exactly why we are here."

"Because some ARSCHLOCH decided he could kick out my schwester!"

"We can't just keep her like a pet!"

"Prussia, Germany, s'il vous plait! This is exactly why we could get nothing out of Russia!"

Ludwig's cerulean eyes went wide and even Spain seemed awake.

"You went to Russia?!" Germany practically roared, rushing forward to grab his older brother (who was closer than France) by the shoulders. "What did you tell him?!"

Even the albino appeared startled by the sudden outburst and he stuttered over his response. "Hey, West, calm down! We were just trying to figure out what the hell you thought you were doing!"

Spain shook his head, sitting up. "My amigo, Ivan was attempting to annex _ earlier. Ludwig became guilty and made her leave because he thought it would be best. There is more, but that is for the two of them to work out."

The blond haired man groaned and released Prussia, shoving past France to get out the door.

"H-hey, where are you going?" Gilbert stammered, still reeling from the new information.

"To bring back _!"

**A/N: Dudes, so sorry about the low quality of this chapter. I wrote this on zero inspiration, and only because I was taking too long to update. The plot got waaaay thicker than it was supposed to XD The next installment shouldn't be so bad. Thank y'all for your patience! Review if you want Spain to be your relationship counselor! **


	6. Chapter 6

This was bad. No... bad was that time you broke Prussia's Xbox controller. Bad was that time you pulled Italy's curl. This was dire. After confronting you on the beachside, Russia had unceremoniously flung you over his shoulder and later knocked you around enough for you to fall unconscious. You had only just woken up to find yourself in a sparsely decorated bedroom, both wrists tied to the headboard of the bed you had been laid on with a scarf. You highly doubted it was Russia's precious beige scarf, but the origin of your bondage wasn't exactly your main concern at the moment anyway.

Escaping was pretty impossible. The knot was much too tight to successfully pull free and there weren't any promising windows anyhow. The door was too much to hope for; you were positive it was tightly secured. Russia's intentions were beyond you. The only thing that could come to mind was... oh. His and Germany's argument came rushing back to you, and your struggles became increasingly violent. Prussia had never discussed with you what had happened during his years with Russia, but between his and other former satellite countries' whispered conversations and revealingly placed scars, you had a fairly accurate assumption.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Where was Ludwig to protect you? Stupid arschloch. Stupid stupid stupid stupid- ...the door began to jiggle, as if someone were trying to get in. Or, rather, as if someone was unlocking it. You backed yourself into the headboard, eyes growing wide. The door shuddered as something-someone, you corrected yourself-slammed itself against the wood.

You began to scream.

"...and so I thought it would be better for her if she was on her own. I was trying to avoid her from becoming unhappy and from becoming a target," Germany finished his harrowed explanation as he, Prussia, France, and Spain barrelled down the highway in his Mercedes. The Italies had chosen to not go since Feliciano was still recovering from Gilbert's forced entry. Romano had kindly agreed to "stay the fuck home" and was entrusted with his distraught brother by Spain. Afterwards, the four had wasted no time in piling in the vehicle and booking it to Russia's house.

"Did you ever think to, you know, ASK her?!" Prussia practically shouted when West finished. He was riding shotgun and in perfect position to distract the already flustered driver with his own neurotic ramblings.

"Prusse, stop harassing Allemagne. Try contacting China again; he may be able to reach Russia before we do," France scolded from his seat behind Germany's. Spain cursed beside him, having just ended his call with America.

"Any luck?" Prussia asked, although the uncharastically sour expression worn by the Spaniard was self explanatory.

"No. He's still angry about my boss backing out of Iraq..."

"Is that all you talked about?!" Gilbert muttered, allowing his face to fall into his hand. This was not the time to argue about the Middle East; his schwester was in the hands of a creep!

"Sorry, amigo, but I don't think he knew anything."

"I still bet he could talk to Russia! Call him back!"

"Nein, Gilbert!" Germany finally cut in, silencing his brother. "Having Alfred talk to him won't help. We'll get there, just... just calm down."

Prussia sat back, his mouth a tight line. His bruder hardly ever stuttered, and the fact that he was now was indicative to the severity of his upset. For once, Gilbert would hold back his obnoxious outbursts. If only for _ and Ludwig.

But his awesome self was soooo kicking their asses when all this was over.

The rest of the car ride carried on in this manner, with the two Germanic nations eerily silent and Spain going through his contacts list. Francis was texting Iggy, shamelessly flirting in order to get over his own anger at _ and Ludwig. The idiots didn't even realize they were in love, for Napoleon's sake! He sent another message to Arthur and leaned back. Being the country of love was so difficult when surrounded by brutes like Germany.

Russia's house eventually loomed ahead, large like the country himself. As Germany pulled up and the suspense began to set in, Spain piped up.

"So... what's the plan, amigos?"

For a moment, there was a tell tale silence.

"Bust in and kick ass?" Gilbert finally offered, unable to think of anything more substantial.

"Something like that," Germany muttered, running his hand through his slicked back hair as if trying to neaten it further in his nervousness. He wasn't frightened by Russia in the slightest-despite his failed attempt at conquering the nation so long ago. No, he was more scared of you than anything. Aside from the potentially deadly situation he had inadvertently placed you in, he had kicked you out as if you no longer mattered (which was far from the truth). The emotional implications were much more intimidating than any hit Ivan could throw.

But there wasn't anymore time to waste; Germany slid the key from the ignition and tossed it to Francis.

"Stay here on the off chance someone calls. Gilbert can with come with me in case there's conflict and Spain will hang back with you."

"Whatever, just go get her so we can all go home."

"Si, it's almost time for another siesta~" Spain offered, completely shattering the movie rescue scene that Gilbert felt had built up.

"What the fuck ever. We'll be back in just a minute, don't start having sex in the backseat or anything."

Francis made a face and was about to give a retort, but Ludwig was already pulling his brother away and up to the house.

"Focus, all right?"

"Jawohl," Prussia smirked, ready to kick some Russian ass.

"Can I kick the door down? I can kick the door down, right?"

"We're just picking up _, don't start vandalizing property," Ludwig sighed, turning the knob and finding it agreeably unlocked. He poked his head in before warily stepping inside.

"Well, if he hurt _, I'm vandalizing all the damn property I want."

Germany nodded his consent as he explored the curiously dark house. Russia didn't seemed to be around the first floor anywhere, which was too sketchy for comfort. The stairs creaked noisily as the brothers approached the second floor, but they didn't care; they had been expecting confrontation and wanted it over with.

"She's not down here," Gilbert whispered... loudly. He was in the kitchen, which reminded him of Russia's liquor stash. He looted the freezer of vodka after rationalizing that _ could be anywhere, including next to the frozen peas. Germany was in the living room, approaching the stairs cautiously.

"I'm going upstairs, don't do anything stupid," he murmured as he took the stairs two at a time.

"Ja, ja," Gilbert called, still collecting bottles. Because damn there were a lot.

Upstairs wasn't much; an ominous hallway featuring a few unmarked doors. There was another floor, but Ludwig was almost sure that it would lead to an attic and nothing more. Most nations had expansive attics; there were always plenty of things to store from centuries past. Not for _, though. She was still so young... guilt bit Germany harshly as the cruel nature of what he had done sunk further into his understanding. He shook away the sickening feeling and steeled himself against any more onslaughts of emotion. He would make it up to her, as soon as she was found.

And so he began at the very end and worked his way down; pressing and ear to each and every rectangle of wood and trying the knob. He discovered two guest rooms, one suspiciously decorated with a single, American flag adorned pillow, and one spare bathroom. There was also another room, the contents of which almost rivalled Germany's own 'special room', but he would consider those implications later. Finally, he found himself before the final door. The fear of finding nothing was equal to his fear of finding that something awful had befallen you. But hesitance served no use and so he gripped the knob and turned it...

... but it wouldn't give. It was locked. The others had been as easy to access as the house itself and a sudden hope overrode whatever else the German man had been feeling. However, as good an omen as the lock was it also proved incredibly inconvenient to Ludwig's entry and he resorted to slamming his body against the thick wood until the very hinges shuddered. A piercing scream reverberated throughout the house, the source definitely behind the door Ludwig struggled with. _ was definitely there. But based on that scream, so was someone else. Germany renewed his efforts with an even greater fervor.

France found himself incredibly bored sitting in the car with no one but Antonio, having succumbed to sleep despite his earlier assurance that the siesta could wait for later. For a while the blond nation had found entertainment with altering the adjustments in the car, as a surprise for Germany, but that quickly lost its appeal. As did sending inappropriate messages to Switzerland, who was sure to kick his ass later. But one of his attempts at keeping busy became quite fruitful when he received a much anticipated text from a former protege of his.

'Yo, Frenchie, I found Vanya at commie square. the big guy'll b distracted for a while ;) u def owe me 1. ~the hero'

The implications of his choice of emoticon took France by surprise only slightly; he had helped raise Alfred after all. And if that's what it took to keep Ivan away while _ was recovered, then so be it. Francis leaned back in the chair and called Gilbert.

Gilbert jumped, practically dropping his growing collection of alcohol, when Die Arzte started blaring through the otherwise silent house. He grappled with the vodka while attempting to reach the source of the sound-his cellphone-from his back pocket. He swore, silently hoping to the powers that be that Russia wasn't home to hear the commotion as a bottle fell to the floor and shattered. He finally reached the damn device only to see France's smirk on caller ID.

"What do you want Francis?" he spat none too quietly.

"Only your love, Prussia."

"Cut the shit!" the albino muttered, hip bumping the freezer closed. "Seriously; did something bad happen?"

"Quite the opposite. America just texted me. Russia isn't home at all, he's in Red Square. Also, Alfred promises a distraction of the sexual sort."

"Vat?!" Gilbert's eyes widened. He didn't think the younger country had the balls for something like willingly bedding Ivan. Damn.

"Oui! It's wonderful isn't i-"

The rest of France's sentence was drowned out by a huge _CRACK _followed by an ear splitting scream.

"Shit!" Gilbert abandoned his bottles and phone to the kitchen counter and ran, sliding across the vodka stained floor a bit, to the stairs, which he was up in record time. There, at the end of the hallway, was a gaping hole where a door used to stand. And on the ground amongst splintered wood was Ludwig, sprawled out and unmoving. The scream belonged to _, which allowed a sliver of comfort to filter in through Gilbert's sheer terror for his brother. She was tied to the bed crudely, with a scarf, but appeared otherwise unharmed.

Germany stirred and Gilbert slumped against the wall in utter relief. Ludwig was alright. _ was alright.

Moments later, France and Spain stumbled in as well and helped Ludwig to his feet before collapsing into each other themselves with giddy pleasure. Everything would be fine.

**A/N: Oh wow, a long chapter! Well, here is your less than stunning conclusion sequence to a rather fun fanfic. Don't forget it just yet though, there will be a fun filled epilogue in which things are explained and flirtations are exchanged. But I seriously wouldn't have finished this had y'all not urged me to do so, and I thank you for the support you all provided throughout this tsundere adventure! I don't finish many series(-es?), and so I'm happy to have provided some closure for this one. But yeah! Stick around for the epilogue; it'll be fun. And check out some of my other work! If you're really into xreaders, my newest one might interest you :) Thank you all so much!**


End file.
